


Coriolis Force

by pencilguin



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Angst, Consensual Sex, Dubious Consent, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, hey did you know the Mirror Universe is a shit place?, none of this is really explicit content, reflections on freedom of choice, vaguely asexual character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-27 05:03:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21113099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pencilguin/pseuds/pencilguin
Summary: [spoilers for S1 and 2x10]After developing the core of the Imperial flagship and a variety of bioweapons, Stamets gets the chance to gain the patronage of the Terran Emperor herself for his new research project. But for this, he has to make a choice, and live with the consequences.





	Coriolis Force

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aphelyon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aphelyon/gifts).

> For Aphelyon, who endures my rambling about morality and free will in the Mirror Universe, and who is even more obsessed with these two than I am. 
> 
> This isn't beta'd, sorry for any potential mess.

Paul swallows, clears his throat.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, your Highness?” he says, aware of how loaded the question is, of what he’s offering. “To convince you of my research proposal?”

“I don’t know.” Georgiou takes another couple of steps towards him. He makes sure not to let her out of his sight. It takes all of his restraint not to flinch when she reaches for his hip, pulls out his dagger, starts idly inspecting it. Her head snaps up; her eyes fix his. “Can you?”

He holds her gaze, even though his heart is pounding somewhere up in his throat. He wonders if she can hear it, from this short distance.

The tip of his dagger touches his uniform’s chest plate, right in the center, and by it she steers him backwards across the room until he has to let himself sink into her chair. Then she pulls the blade back, twirls it between her fingers. In his head he already sees it dig its way into his heart.

Instead, Georgiou climbs into his lap before carelessly dropping the dagger to the floor. Paul braces himself, although he’s briefly surprised by how light she is, as if her overwhelming presence somehow outweighed the lithe, almost delicate frame of her body.

The feelings of surprise, panic, ambition, awe, disgust, and at least a dozen more mix into a dangerous cocktail inside his brain, leaving him dizzy, threatening to take over, let loose all of his neuroses. He gives himself one second, one deep breath, and then chooses to go with it, for whatever worth his “choice” has in her world. It’s not the first favor he exchanges to get what he wants in it, after all. Georgiou’s not exactly his type of mate; despite how little he cares for sex in general, men are still more pleasant to engage with. But his body responds to the physical stimulation just as well.

It’s not really appealing, mostly just bizarre, as he realizes that he’s fucking the Terran fucking Emperor. While she seems to be having her fun he finds that he can, too, by thinking about Dr. Culber. He remembers the feeling of Hugh’s skin pressed against his, pictures his face when he climaxes, the sheer beauty of his entire existence. He thinks of the unspeakable things he would say to Hugh if he wasn’t such a coward, sappy bullshit like “I love you.” He finds that these thoughts make him smile.

He’s also very careful to keep his mouth shut lest a name slips out, because he likes his head to stay attached to his neck.

When they’re done, she slides off him and straightens herself. Unsure about post-coital court protocol, he does the same and waits for her to speak. She grabs a robe from the closet on the wall to put on, and without so much as another look tells him, “I’ll grant your research for now. But I’ll check in with you from time to time. You better not disappoint me, _Paul_.”

Paul swallows again, hopefully inaudibly. “Of course, sir.”

“You’re dismissed.”

He nods, although she doesn’t look up. Without another word, he leaves.

Outside in the corridor, he pauses. He wants to see Hugh, but he also needs to be alone. He doesn’t know how to feel, nor what to say to him.

He realizes he left his dagger on her office floor.

***

Taking the shortest route possible while avoiding the crowded spaces and corridors of the ship Paul makes it back to his living quarters and locks the door, where he finally releases the breath he had been holding for far too long. The loss of his dagger makes him anxious, he’s hoping against hope that nobody noticed he wasn’t carrying it. It’s making him feel naked and exposed. Dread constricts his chest while his brain frantically tries to figure out how to get the dagger back.

It takes him a while to get a hold of his bearings and stop himself from spiraling. At last he turns on the spot and heads for his bathroom, discarding each item of clothing one by one on his way, carelessly dropping them to the floor. Order’s the last thing he cares about right now.

Rather than sonic, he decides on a water shower, sets the water first too cold and then too hot, closes his eyes and tries to force himself not to feel the burning on his skin. He leans forward until his forehead rests against the shower wall, and closes his eyes again. The scents of their encounter, of the Emperor’s perfume and of sweat have dissipated in the steam that fills the small space around him, but their memory still lingers. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Then another and another and another. Slowly he opens his eyes again, ignoring the droplets that run down along the curves of his head and catch in his lashes. Looking down his pale body that’s started to flush angry red from the heat, he watches as the water flows into the drain between his feet, spiraling counter-clockwise. It reminds him of something he learned ages ago, the phenomenon of the Coriolis force that didn’t even apply to the water drains back on Earth, half a lifetime ago when he was growing up there, and even less so in deep space.

He knows the strongest force out here, and he knows how dangerous it is that he’s started playing with her. Despite the hot water, he shivers.

After adjusting the shower to a cooler temperature he finishes by scrubbing himself clean, then steps out and dries himself off. Still feeling lost, he steps out of the bathroom, flinching for a second when his bare feet make contact with the cold floor. He pads over to his bed and sits down, still naked, and stares into the distance.

Normally something like this shouldn’t be a big deal. He uses his body to get what he wants all the time, when violence doesn’t suffice. But this? This is different. He feels that he has entered some form of long-term contract here and he isn’t sure if there’s gonna be a way out of it. The way Georgiou said, _“But I’ll check in with you from time to time,”_ replays in his head. Another involuntary shiver. He tells himself that this might be his big chance. Gaining — and keeping — the Emperor’s favor is a huge deal and he’d be a fool to blow this opportunity. Potentially drawing her wrath? Most definitely not how he wants to die. _No_, he keeps telling himself, _this was the right choice._ He’s still fucking terrified.

The door chime makes him jump almost violently. With his heartbeat up in his throat he asks, “Who is it?”

“_Dr. Hugh Culber_,” the computer responds.

Paul lets out a relieved breath. “Let him in.”

He barely looks up as Hugh steps inside, but out of the corner of his eye he sees his expression change from mild curiosity at the fact that Paul isn’t greeting him at the door to pleasant surprise at the sight in front of him, followed by a not-so-subtle smug grin.

“That’s not a view I was expecting.” He lingers in the bedroom doorway, casually leans against the frame. Paul knows he’s waiting for an invitation.

He looks up, takes in the sight of the doctor, who’s still in his full red-and-black uniform, but his stance is relaxed now. Paul tries to assess how he feels. Hugh’s presence doesn’t feel intrusive, at the least. He still doesn’t know what to say, though. He gives a nod to signal it’s okay for Hugh to come closer, who doesn’t hesitate to oblige.

As he looks up at Hugh looking down at him he sees the affection and the hunger there. They don’t exchange a word. Paul feels how the air travels in and out of his lungs with each breath he takes, but the other feeling he hasn’t been able to shake remains, the one constricting his chest, pressing down on his skull, laying all over him like an invisible blanket of tar, one that the shower didn’t manage to dissolve. It feels a little lighter when he looks at Hugh, like he doesn’t notice it quite as much.

“You’re quiet. What’s wrong?” Hugh sits down on the bed and lets a hand slowly travel up his arm. The touch feels like a revelation. Good. _Right._ Paul makes another choice; an easy one.

He grabs Hugh at the back of his neck and pulls him into a fierce kiss, pushing his tongue past Hugh’s lips, trying to drown himself in him. After the initial surprise over his action, Hugh enthusiastically joins in, twisting out of his uncomfortable seat and positioning himself between Paul’s legs, with one hand cradling his neck as well now while the other finds its way to his bare thigh. Paul’s other hand buries into his hair and when their lips break apart to gasp for air he keeps holding on, not letting him get far away.

“Want you,” he mutters, his words a mere, breathy whisper. “_Need_ you…” His skin where Hugh’s been touching it is burning, tingling, in a much more pleasant way now than before. He’s not processing right now _why_, all he can tell is that this is what he needs, this is what will heal him. At least for now.

And Hugh is eager to please. Getting him out of his uniform in a joint effort doesn’t take long, and he doesn’t comment on the fact that Paul has never taken the initiative like this — thankfully, because Paul doesn’t have an answer to give him. Hugh’s hands and his lips scrape off the layer of invisible tar from every inch of his skin, and he feels himself relax, for now, to his own surprise finds comfort in the fact that he doesn’t have to be in control to feel safe, and there’s a new excitement that comes with handing himself over to this other person, one that he never has experienced before.

Exhausted and overwhelmed as they are lying next to each other on their backs, he turns his head to the right to see Hugh, face flushed and glistening with sweat, smiling at him. He allows himself to smile back, hesitant at first. Out of an impulse, he whispers, “Thanks.” He means it.

Hugh’s smile grows. “Pleasure’s all mine. This was more than I expected when I came over, actually.”

“Right,” Paul remembers after a moment, once he’s turned onto his side to curl around him and rest his head on Hugh’s chest. “Why are you here, by the way?”

“A little bird told me that you’d talk to the Emperor about your new research funding today. I came here to ask how it went.”

“Oh. Yeah,” Paul mutters, buries himself a little deeper into Hugh’s chest. “Went well…”

“‘Went well’?” He knows without looking that Hugh’s eyebrow went up at that. “What does that mean? You got it?”

“M-hmm.”

Hugh whistles. “Nice job, babe.”

Paul doesn’t respond.

“You managed to convince her after all, huh?” They’re both silent for a moment. When Hugh continues, there’s a knowing undertone to his voice. “How’d you do it?”

Paul twitches. Again, he doesn’t respond.

“That’s why you jumped me, huh?”

His grip around Hugh’s torso tightens reflexively. Suddenly he’s scared of telling anyone, even Hugh. He senses his defensive walls coming up again. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Hugh sighs; his chest heaves and falls with it under Paul. “You too, eh?”

“‘Too’?” More than anything it’s the honesty and openness that catches him off-guard.

“Guess she picks favorites, sometimes. Congratulations, by the way.” Hugh wraps his arm around Paul’s shoulders. “She’s got taste, if you’re one of them.”

“You…” Paul pauses, licks his lips. “You’re not gonna use this against me…” He hesitates again. “Are you?”

“No,” is the plain answer he receives. He turns his head to look up at Hugh’s face and sees his brows furrow questioningly. “Why would I? I’m no better than you.”

Paul feels a pang of something dangerously close to… jealousy? But he quickly realizes the hypocrisy of it. Besides, Hugh looks far from pleased with his own fate.

“What do _you_ get from her?”

Hugh’s eyes flicker over his face, then off into the distance. “To stay on the Charon.” _With you_, his words seem to imply.

“How long?” Paul asks quietly.

“Started before us. Still every now and then.” They’re both silent for a while, with Paul processing his confession. “Should I have told you?”

He shakes his head. “No, this… this was probably for the best.” He can’t guarantee how he would’ve reacted before today. Now, there’s a resigned acceptance to his reaction. Small mercies.

“It’ll be our secret. It’s better if nobody else knows, believe me.”

“I know.” He remembers the dagger he left behind on Georgiou’s office floor, and how exposed he feels without having it. For all these years, keeping his methods secret has kept him alive. He isn’t gonna start changing that now.

To his surprise, Hugh kisses the top of his head. “It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.” A rush of warmth he’s unfamiliar with overcomes Paul at the gesture.

“I know that,” he tries to deflect. “I’ve got this under control, it was my choice.”

Hugh gives him a funny, sceptical look. “Do you seriously think this has anything to do with free choice?”

Paul shuffles around, props himself up on his arms to face Hugh now. He glares at him, determined to maintain his carefully-crafted self-defense mechanism.

“Do you think _I_ had a choice?” Hugh continues.

“We could’ve both said no.”

“And then what?”

“Are you saying I’m weak —”

“This isn’t about physical strength, Paul. Don’t you get it?” Hugh’s getting agitated now, raising his voice. “She’s the fucking Emperor! Yes, I could’ve said no, and then I could’ve returned to the ditch that I came from. Nothing I’ve achieved in my life would’ve meant shit. And that’s just the kindest scenario, the one that assumes that she is lenient when it comes to disobedience. And you and I both know that isn’t the case.”

Paul bites his lip in the hope that it’ll stop it from trembling, staring at a point beneath his pillow. “I _know_.” His body starts shaking. “I know…” Hugh’s words broke the dam, and the fear he’d thought to be under his control spills everywhere. He thinks about mentioning the dagger, but discards the thought.

When Hugh wraps his arms around him, Paul believes he can feel him shaking, too. For some time, they both sit like this, slightly rocking back and forth, Paul with his arms around Hugh’s now as well, for their mutual comfort.

“Do you ever wanna burn it all down?” Paul asks quietly after a while.

“Sometimes,” Hugh mutters into his neck. “But that’s considered treason.” Slowly, he starts kissing Paul again.

The voice of the computer interrupts them. “_Urgent message for Dr. Culber._”

“What is it?” Hugh says.

“_Doctor, you are required in Agony Chamber 11-B._”

He sighs. “Understood. I’m on my way.”

Reluctantly, Paul lets his hands slide off him as he climbs out of the bed. He picks his clothes up from the floor and gets dressed while Paul watches him sadly. When he’s done, he walks over and leans down to kiss him one last time.

“I’ll see you.”

With a regretful smile, he walks out.

Without him, Paul suddenly feels alone and very, very lost.

***

Eventually Paul gets dressed — something off-duty and as comforting as he can find — and replicates himself something to soothe his nerves. He wanted to ask Hugh _when_ he’d be seeing him again, missing him more right now than he possibly ever has before. His farewell had sounded vague and, normally, they often only see each other every few days. No-one’s supposed to know of their relationship — anything that could be used against them needs to remain secret.

So he’s all the more surprised when the door chimes again.

“Who’s it?”

“_A delivery for Paul Stamets_,” the computer replies.

Paul’s eyes narrow with suspicion. He takes his phaser from the table, but makes sure to conceal it before he gets the door.

An ensign whose name he hasn’t cared to remember holds a small, rectangular box out to him. He confirms the delivery on their PADD and dismisses them before retreating back into his quarters.

The small display on the box lists no originator, but he recognizes the security code. His stomach gives a little jolt. With trembling fingers, he opens the lid.

Two things are inside, bedded on a shimmering, grey fabric: A little paper card with a handwritten ink note that says, _I look forward to your cooperation, Paul. — G._ And underneath it a small, Imperial Fleet standard-issued dagger.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been extremely nervous about this one. So if you've read all the way through it up to here: First of all - thank you! Second of all - please let me know what you think!


End file.
